movement of her master.

When he looked around, he saw, by the spring, the remains of his horse;
the panther had dragged the carcass all that way; about two thirds of it
had been devoured already. The sight reassured him.

It was easy to explain the panther's absence, and the respect she had
had for him while he slept. The first piece of good luck emboldened him
to tempt the future, and he conceived the wild hope of continuing on
good terms with the panther during the entire day, neglecting no means
of taming her, and remaining in her good graces.

He returned to her, and had the unspeakable joy of seeing her wag her
tail with an almost imperceptible movement at his approach. He sat down
then, without fear, by her side, and they began to play together; he
took her paws and muzzle, pulled her ears, rolled her over on her back,
stroked her warm, delicate flanks. She let him do what ever he liked,
and when he began to stroke the hair on her feet she drew her claws in
carefully.

The man, keeping the dagger in one hand, thought to plunge it into the
belly of the too confiding panther, but he was afraid that he would be
immediately strangled in her last convulsive struggle; besides, he felt
in his heart a sort of remorse which bid him respect a creature that
had done him no harm. He seemed to have found a friend, in a boundless
desert; half unconsciously he thought of his first sweetheart, whom
he had nicknamed "Mignonne" by way of contrast, because she was so
atrociously jealous that all the time of their love he was in fear of
the knife with which she had always threatened him.

This memory of his early days suggested to him the idea of making the
young panther answer to this name, now that he began to admire with less
terror her swiftness, suppleness, and softness. Toward the end of the
day he had familiarized himself with his perilous position; he now
almost liked the painfulness of it. At last his companion had got into
the habit of looking up at him whenever he cried in a falsetto voice,
"Mignonne."

At the setting of the sun Mignonne gave, several times running,
a profound melancholy cry. "She's been well brought up," said the
lighthearted soldier; "she says her prayers." But this mental joke only
occurred to him when he noticed what a pacific attitude his companion
remained in. "Come, ma petite blonde, I'll let you go to bed first,"
he said to her, counting on the activity of his own legs to run away as
quick